


golden hour

by archersandsunsets



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, golden hour!everlark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archersandsunsets/pseuds/archersandsunsets
Summary: “Hey. Look, it’s golden hour.” A sun-soaked look at Katniss and Peeta.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	golden hour

Propped against the headboard, with three pillows at my back and another supporting my heel, I have just finished dictating the details on stinging nettle, and Peeta is in the process of sketching the bare bones of the plant in the mid-afternoon sun when I drop off.

I wake hours later. I can tell time has passed. But I don’t want to move, let alone be awake. The bleak winter sun shrouded in winter grey has been replaced with a radiant sunset which spills from the gap in the curtains and bathes the room in a rich glow caught somewhere between yellow and orange. A blanket has been pulled over my legs, except for my wrapped heel. My head rests on something soft and warm, and I shift to nuzzle into it, closing my eyes again. The house is still and quiet, save for a low _scritch-scratch_ from somewhere nearby.

I’m just about to doze off again when the sound stops, and my pillow moves. My eyes open. Blearily I turn to find Peeta looking down at me like a kid who’s about to be chastised.

“I was trying not to wake you,” he says sheepishly, wincing, “But my shoulder is starting to go numb. How was your nap?”

I pull myself off of him and into a sitting position. The pillows are askew behind me, but I manage.

“Good.” Still not quite comfortable, I shift again, and my heel protests with the action. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Sorry for trapping you for so long. You could have gone home if you…” I wiggle my foot, and grimace.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have anywhere to be.” Peeta’s rolling his shoulder, but now he’s concerned about me, too. “Do you want a snow pack?”

I shake my head. I only upset my heel because I moved against the mattress, dragging the injury. “It’s fine.”

“Okay.” He settles next to me again, his attention now on the window. “Hey. Look, it’s golden hour.”

His strange use of phrase makes me scrunch my nose. “It’s what? That just looks like a sunset to me.”

He laughs. “No, it is. But the sun is making everything golden. So, golden hour,” he repeats.

Huh. I’ve never heard a sunset or the time surrounding it described that way, but I like it.

“It’s a photography term, usually,” Peeta explains. “It’s a really good time for taking pictures. I learned it when Effie sent me a book of reference pictures for my art. It happens when the color of the sky goes from red and orange to yellow. Or—”

“Golden,” I hum, and nod towards the warm hues taking over the sky. “Your favorite color.” The orange may be fading, but it’s still visible near the horizon and in the shadow of the clouds.

“Yes.” He smiles. The light plays on his hair, in his eyes, as he looks down at me. I think he’s thinking something nice because his grin deepens, as does his stare. I bite my lip. I catch sight of his eyelashes—so blond, and golden now—when he blinks, then turns his attention to the window again. Whatever spell we were under breaks. I’m thinking that golden hour is something special when I mirror him, if only to keep from getting caught staring. I almost want to lean against him again, take in the view, but I don’t.

We both watch the changing sky outside for a moment before Peeta shifts again, this time to stand from the bed. He pulls his jacket off the chair in the corner and shrugs it on quickly, then scans my room, searching, settling on a heavy blanket folded at the end of my bed. He wraps it around my shoulders before sliding his arm under my legs to lift me, being careful of my foot. He uses his other arm to support my back. I hold the blanket closed around me with one hand and wrap my other arm around his neck.

“Where are we going?“ I ask.

“You’ll see.” Then we’re heading down the hall, down the stairs, and outside. I realize Prim and my mother aren’t home, and briefly wonder how long they’ve been gone as Peeta steps onto the porch. I take a deep breath of the crisp winter air as the door shuts behind us heavily.

“If my mother sees us, she’ll kill you,” I joke, “I’m supposed to be on bedrest, remember?”

Peeta grins mischievously. “She won’t kill me if I tell her you put me up to it.”

“What? I don’t even know where we’re going!”

“Do you want me to stop?” Peeta challenges me, pausing at the end of the path to my house.

I’ve been aching to get out of the house since my fall, so I don’t protest further. “Of course not. I’m just making sure you know all the risks.”

“If I survived an arena, I can survive your mother. Plus, she likes me, I think.”

I laugh, especially at his ‘ _I think.’_ “Okay, then.” I nod towards the road. Gold casts over the snowy path, its intensity starting to dim, but there’s still time. It looks even brighter here than it did from my bedroom. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this was originally posted in response to a prompt on tumblr for @rosegardeninwinter, who wanted some missing moments during the soft cheese bun time in Catching Fire, but i'm kind of in love with the idea of golden hour!everlark, so i'm not against revisiting this concept—other CF scenes, perhaps? can i find a way to make it fit in MJ? post MJ?
> 
> feedback is always appreciated. if you want to chat, come find me on archersandsunsets.tumblr.com!


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